


Sticks and Stones... but Never You

by nyromes



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Courfeyrac, Brittle Bone Disease, Fluff, M/M, Morning Sex, Oral Sex, Osteogenesis Imperfecta, Overstimulation, Smut, Top Combeferre, basically no plot, oversensitivity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-19
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-10-21 01:57:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10675326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nyromes/pseuds/nyromes
Summary: AU in which Courfeyrac has Osteogenesis Imperfecta, also known as Brittle Bone Disease, which causes his bones to break easily and his body to be a little weaker and smaller than average. It doesn’t stop him from being a cheeky, wicked bundle of energy, though, and Combeferre can’t help but love him with all his heart.





	Sticks and Stones... but Never You

**Author's Note:**

> Basically just fluff with a side of smut because apparently I can’t write anything more profound or angsty. I still have no idea what I’m actually doing. I’m so sorry.
> 
> Please let me know what you think.

It’s the tickling of Fey’s fingertips that wakes him up. The soft, small hands running down his side and the gentle heat of his body resting against the older boy’s back. The sensation of his hands and the calm, warm breaths of air on the student’s neck as he kisses his shoulder. It never fails to bring a smile to Ferre’s lips.

He leans back into the touch when Courfeyrac nuzzles the hair at the back of his neck and huffs a laugh, mouthing between his shoulder blades.

“Not- Not that I don’t like where this is going, but… You know we’ve got lectures today, right?” He still sounds a little sleepy, his voice a bit raspy.

To be honest, Combeferre has no idea how Fey’s so energized. Sure, there are days that get him down, when he’s worn out and grumpy because his body takes its rest without asking, but generally, in most cases, it’s Combeferre who wakes up groggy and tired when his friend’s already up and smiling.

Still, he laughs when Fey tugs at his arm and makes him turn onto his back so he can place a kiss on his cheek. His hair sticks out at all impossible angles.

“Say it again?”

Combeferre nods, repeating his words. “We have to leave the house in about two hours and we’ll probably need a shower if you keep going…” He looks at Fey so the younger boy can read his lips. His hearing’s not impaired to the degree of leaving him deaf, but it’s easier for the brunet to make sense of the sounds when he can see people’s lips.

“It’s two hours and twenty minutes,” Courfeyrac corrects. “We’ll manage.”

Combeferre raises his eyebrows, then sighs in defeat. “You’re insatiable.”

“You love me,” Courfeyrac shrugs, and Combeferre can’t really do much but agree. He truly does love the boy. Even if it’s way too early and they both have morning breath and traces of sleep in the corners of their eyes.

It’s amazing, really, what unconditional love does to a person.

“Besides,” Courfeyrac continues, “my physical therapist told me to work out as often as possible…”

“I’m sure this is not what she had in mind when she said that.”

“She said I should do whatever feels good. So doing _you_ is my first choice, obviously.”

Combeferre smiles amusedly. There’s really no point arguing.

He pushes a stray curl of dark hair behind Fey’s ear and trails a hand down the boy’s neck, his fingers travelling along his spine. There’s barely any pressure to his touch, but it’s firm enough to reassure the other boy of his presence. Fey’s clearly pleased, because he nips at Ferre’s bottom lip and hums contentedly before climbing in Ferre’s lap. He’s grinning like the cat that got the cream as he settles on the older boy’s thighs and places his hands on Combeferre’s chest.

His eyes are almost completely dark now, his wide pupils just that bit more obscure than the deep Oxford blue of his iris and the clouded Aegean of his sclera. And Combeferre’s been in love with his eyes from the moment they first met.

He’s never been able to understand the people thinking Fey’s eyes were creepy or weird. Of all the things he loves about Courfeyrac, his eyes are the one thing Combeferre would call the most beautiful. It’s his body’s inability to create enough collagen that allows the choroidal veins to show through the thin layer of his sclera, and yeah, maybe it’s the fact that Combeferre’s a medical student, but it’s impossible for him not to get lost in the blue of Fey’s eyes.

He loves them even when Fey is fed up with his mesmerized stare and rolls them at him with an air of fond exasperation, leaning in to press another kiss to the corner of Ferre’s mouth.

His lips move along Ferre’s jaw and down his neck and collarbone, his tongue flicking over the medical student’s nipple and following the trail of his fingers down the boy’s chest. When he reaches reaches the waistband of Ferre’s boxers, he pulls them down, climbing between the blond’s legs and smirking up at him as he bites the inside of Ferre’s thigh. Finally, he bends down and curls his fingers around Combeferre’s still soft cock, kissing the underside and mouthing at his balls, coaxing him to full hardness with firm, slow strokes of his hand.

Ferre moans and lets his head fall back into the pillow. He can feel the younger boy grin into his skin as he nuzzles the crease of Ferre’s hip. Courfeyrac presses a kiss to the sensitive spot at the base of Ferre’s cock.

“You smell like sex,” he comments, eyes glinting, and Combeferre huffs a laugh.

“Well, and who’s fault is that?”

Fey grins, obviously pleased with himself, and he leans down to wrap his lips around the head of Ferre’s cock, lapping at the precum.

“Love you like this...” he mumbles, “Taste so good.”

He looks up at Ferre with a reassuring nod and closes his lips around the tip of Ferre’s cock again, relaxing his throat. He hums when Ferre slips his hand into his hair and gently tugs at the back of his head.

It’s about as rough as sex gets with them, even if Fey insists that he’s not going to fracture if Ferre grips him just a little harder. Combeferre’s not really keen on feeling his lover’s bones break under his fingers. So he keeps his touch light when he guides the boy down on his cock, feeling his muscles spasm around his length and groaning when the head of his cock pushes into the familiar, tight heat of Fey’s throat.

“Fuck, Fey…” He closes his eyes, takes a few breaths and feels Courfeyrac do the same, breathing shallowly with his nose pressed into the coarse hair at the base of Ferre’s cock. He swallows experimentally, making sure not to trigger any respiratory problems, and the contraction of his throat causes Ferre’s hips to tremble.

It takes all of Ferre’s control not to push his friend’s head down and thrust up into his mouth right then. Fey probably wouldn’t mind, but Combeferre still waits for him to adjust, waits for the boy’s hand to come to rest on his hip and his fingers to squeeze his side, giving him permission, before holding the brunet’s head firmly in place and raising his hips. He keeps his thrusts slow but deep, making Courfeyrac gag and sputter as his cock slips in and out of his throat relentlessly. Slick spit dribbles from the corner of Fey’s mouth and the wet sounds of his chokes fill the room, but Combeferre can see the pleased, mischievous glint in his eyes when Courfeyrac looks up at him through his lashes.

“Fuck,” Combeferre groans and tugs at Fey’s hair, pulling him up until his cock falls from the boy’s shiny, red lips. “God, you’re amazing,” he pants, chuckling breathlessly, “I don’t deserve you…”

Courfeyrac grins, climbing back into Ferre’s lap. “Yeah, well… You’re the one who patches me up when I fall out of bed and dislocate my shoulder… Don’t know if I could find another medical student to put up with me.” He winks. “Gotta give you a little treat every once in a while to keep you ’round, you know?”

Ferre knows Courfeyrac’s joking, but he can’t leave that statement hanging in the air. He shakes his head. “You really don’t.”

Fey rolls his eyes. “I know I don’t,” he whispers, brushing his lips against the side of Ferre’s neck, “But if you could just go with it, I wouldn’t have to admit that I’m basically just a huge slut for your dick…”

Combeferre has a hard time controlling the laughter bubbling in his chest as he wraps his arms around the smaller boy’s shoulders and pulls him into a kiss. “Didn’t know that was a secret… Or something you were ashamed of.”

“Yeah,” Fey rocks his hips back, aligning Ferre’s cock with the crease of his ass. “I probably shouldn’t brag about my cock-sucking skills so often. Or gush over how much I love it when you fuck me into the sheets... But I guess I just can’t help it when you feel _so good_ inside me.”

Ferre chuckles fondly, knowing that his friend can probably feel his laughter more than he can actually hear it. Courfeyrac grins and runs a hand over the trembling muscles of Ferre’s chest.

He nearly falls off the bed when he reaches for the bedside table to grab the lube, and Combeferre catches his arm just in time to keep him from toppling over. Dark, yellow-blue bruises will soon blossom on Fey’s skin where Combeferre’s hand grips him now, but at least he didn’t hit the ground.

Combeferre still remembers the time Courfeyrac tripped and hit his arm on the doorframe and he heard his friend’s bones break for the first time, his forearm snapping like the stem of a wineglass. All the things he’s learned about anatomy and fractures, and his heart still dropped to the pit of his stomach when he heard Courfeyrac cry out.

He loosens his grip and rubs his thumb over the spot on Fey’s arm.

“Careful, love.”

The brunet’s eyes have gone wide and he lets out a shaky breath. A wave of relief washes over his face as he looks at Combeferre.

“You okay?”

Fey nods, swallowing hard. “Yeah, fine… Thanks.”

He smiles, but it’s not quite as bright as before. The fear of a fracture that comes with an incident like this still haunts his expression.

He goes easily when Ferre beckons him down and draws him into a kiss, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and letting the smaller boy melt into his touch. His lips tremble when they brush against Combeferre’s, and it takes him several seconds to relax and allow the blond to deepen the kiss. His smile is still cautious when they finally pull apart, but it no longer seems forced.

He grabs Combeferre’s hands and places them on his thighs before he picks up the lube he dropped on the bedsheets beside them and uncaps the bottle, drizzling some on his fingers.

“You still want to have sex?” Combeferre asks, a little incredulous, but Courfeyrac just shrugs, obviously set on reviving the playful mood from before.

“You’re still half-hard. I’m gonna get there again… Not gonna let this ruin my morning.”

Combeferre sighs, but nods understandingly. “Alright.”

He squeezes Fey’s hips just lightly as he watches the younger boy open himself up, his upper body bent forward and his lips parted in a silent gasp. Courfeyrac’s eyes flutter closed when Ferre’s hand curls around his flagging erection and teases him back to hardness.

It’s different than before. Slower. Not as rushed as initially. It’s reassuring and familiar, the room almost silent except for their breaths and the sound of skin on skin and the occasional cry falling from Fey’s lips.

It’s closeness and trust and unity, and everything that makes Combeferre’s heart clench with affection.

He’s never loved anyone with the intensity he spares for Courfeyrac.

He watches the younger boy shudder above him and rock into the pressure of Ferre’s palm, his free hand clutching the blond’s shoulder as he bends down and hides his face in the side of Combeferre’s neck. Combeferre’s hand rubs the plain of Fey’s thighs, feeling the slight muscles shift and tremble under the skin.

It’s always bothered Courfeyrac, the way his muscles aren’t as strong as he’d like them to be and his body’s asthenic and shorter than average. But his limbs aren’t visibly deformed, despite the broken bones, and that’s one thing Ferre knows Fey’s greatly thankful for. If he didn’t have the blue-grey colour in his eyes where there should be white, he’d probably pass for a healthy, if skinny, young adult.

Combeferre can’t say he’s ever minded Coufeyrac’s tiny frame. It’s just another part of him that he couldn’t help but fall in love with.

Pressing his lips to the side of Fey’s head, Combeferre fumbles for the lube. He somehow manages to get some of it on his palm without taking his other hand off Courfeyrac’s thigh, and he warms the lube in his hand before he wraps his fingers around both of their cocks. The slickness and the heat of their lengths pressed together has them both moan in unison.

He twists his hand just slightly every time his fist slides up their lengths, and Courfeyrac’s hips jerk forward when Ferre’s thumb runs over his tip, a whine escaping his throat before he pushes back onto his fingers.

“Good?”

Combeferre’s voice is husky, barely more than a whisper, but he’s so close to Courfeyrac that his lips are almost brushing the shell of the smaller boy’s ear. It seems enough for Courfeyrac to hear his question.

He nods faintly. “So good.”

Then, all of a sudden, Fey’s body convulses, and his thighs tense up under Combeferre’s touch, his breath hot and laboured against Ferre’s skin as he shakes with the unexpected force of his orgasm. It takes them both by surprise, but Combeferre strokes him through it, white ropes of come landing on their stomachs and running down Ferre’s hand.

He kisses the top of Courfeyrac’s head once the brunet stops trembling and lets go of Fey’s cock, closing his fist around his own. He’s ready to get himself off with a few quick jerks of his hand when Courfeyrac tugs at his arm, shaking his head.

“Want you to fuck me,” he mutters decidedly, raising his head to meet his friend’s gaze. He shifts his hips and reaches down to align Ferre’s cock with his entrance so the hot tip of it slides against his rim. They both know he’d be sensitive, squirming and whimpering if Combeferre were to push inside him and fuck him only moments after he’s come.

The thought alone has Combeferre moan low in his throat, his hands coming up to grab Courfeyrac’s waist. Still, he hesitates.

Courfeyrac groans. “Please don’t ask me if I’m sure. C’mon, I’m already open. Just fuck me. Please don’t make me do all the work.”

“Brat,” Combeferre smiles, leaning in to meet Fey’s lips in a gentle kiss. He circles a finger around the younger boy’s hole, feeling the muscle flutter at the touch.

Courfeyrac gasps into his mouth when the head of Ferre’s cock slips past his rim and pushes deeper inside, his grip tightening around Combeferre’s upper arm. Combeferre wraps his arms around his waist, his palms coming to rest between Fey’s shoulder blades and their chests pressed together as he holds him close.

It’s crushingly intimate, Combeferre thinks, the way Courfeyrac’s basically giving himself to Ferre and letting him use him, even after he’s already come. Even when he’s torn between discomfort and pleasure.

He takes a breath, steadying himself to keep from thrusting into the brunet too fast.

“Feels so good, Fey. So tight. Love you so much.”

Courfeyrac keens at the praise, arching his back.

“Harder,” he pants, “You can fuck me harder…”

He’s quivering almost painfully, his muscles clenching around Combeferre whenever the older boy hits his prostate. Helpless moans fall from his mouth. Yet he pushes back, trying to meet Ferre’s thrusts, his lips open and shiny with saliva as Combeferre pulls him into a kiss.

He cries out when Combeferre snaps his hips up harder, fucking him faster.

“Yes, ah- Fuck… Ferre-”

Fey’s cock gives a weak twitch where it’s trapped between them, the constant friction and pressure on his dick adding to the sensation of Ferre’s thrusts. It makes Courfeyrac’s hands search for purchase, for something to hold onto, and his fingers clasp Combeferre’s shoulder as his toes curl with sensitivity. His mouth latches onto the curve of Ferre’s neck. Broken whimpers force their way past his lips as he lets his chest melt into his friend’s.

“Ferre… God- ’s so much… Shit-”

His muscles are no longer fighting the intrusion, his body lax in Ferre’s arms, allowing the blond to go as deep and as hard as he wants.

He sounds positively wrecked when he tries to form words.

“Ferre- Ferre, please…”

Combeferre groans, his eyes squeezed shut as his stomach tightens with the familiar sensation of his climax, his head falling back into the pillow and his fingers twisting into the dark locks of Courfeyrac’s hair. He snaps his hips up one last time before he comes with a silent cry of Fey’s name, wrapping his arms tighter around the boy’s lanky frame as his muscles tremble and relax.

He can feel Courfeyrac shaking, can hear him wince when he slowly pulls out, but Fey’s grinning when he raises his head to meet the blond’s eyes. He’s looking at him with that cocky, satisfied smirk, and Combeferre’s heart is just ready to jump out of his chest whenever Fey looks at him like that. He raises a hand to push a strand of hair behind Courfeyrac’s ear.

The smaller boy laughs, his voice still breathless and a little dazed.

“Fuck,” he wheezes, kissing Ferre’s lips before he rolls onto his side next to his friend. “It’s totally your fault if I have to use crutches today.”

Combeferre chuckles and Courfeyrac playfully hits his side. They lie next to each other for several minutes, catching their breaths and stealing glances at each other that make them both break into grins. Courfeyrac’s giggling softly when he looks over at the alarm.

“Seeing as we still got plenty of time…” he begins, the corner of his lips quirked up in a cheeky grin, “why don’t you come and join me in the shower?”

His fingertips trail down the sweaty skin of Ferre’s chest, tracing the lines of his pecs.

“I think showering with you will probably defeat the purpose of taking a shower in the first place.”

Courfeyrac shrugs.

“Your choice,” he says, pecking the side of Ferre’s neck. He pushes himself up and gets off the bed, limping ever so slightly as he makes his way to the bathroom door.

He turns around, his hand on the doorknob, and he winks at Combeferre before he disappears in the bathroom.

Combeferre groans as soon as he hears the water running and Courfeyrac steps under the spray. There’s really no point.

He sighs and runs a hand through his hair, rolling his eyes at himself before he rolls out of bed and follows his love under the shower.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Just in case you're interested and want to know more about OI, here's the link to the OI Foundation Website that helps explain the disease quite well: http://www.oif.org/site/PageServer


End file.
